


Smile

by LeopardGal



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Anime Canon, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Child Abuse, DSOD spoilers, DSoD canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Feels, Health Issues in general, Healthy Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, JUST MIX ALL THE CANONS TOGETHER, Jounouchi is a furry, Kinda vague Blueshipping bromance, M/M, Manga Canon, Mental Health Issues, Mentally Ill!Kaiba, Prideshipping, Romance, Season Zero!Daimon, Season zero canon, Suicide, Supernatural Elements, a few OCs scattered here and there, end of manga spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeopardGal/pseuds/LeopardGal
Summary: Daimon has been a butler for the Kaiba household for many years- he remembers laughter and tears, redemption and despair. But above all, he remembers Seto.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Last year, I wrote a story called Blue Blossoms. It was the first time I'd ever written a story in preset tense. I swore it would be my last.  
> I lied.  
> This story features Daimon and scenes from season zero, backstory from season three, and events that only happen in the manga and Dark Side of Dimensions. Canon? What canon?  
> Also, before anyone asks- no, I haven't abandoned The Isolation Game, I just really loved DSoD and wanted to write something that tied into it.  
> ...And yes, I know that Kazuki Takahashi posted something on his Instagram that expands on the end of DSoD a bit- he also says that this is only one possible ending. If you know the said post, keep that last part in mind here.

Daimon remembers the first time he met Kaiba Seto.

That isn’t even his proper name yet- legally, he is still Miyazato Seto, and this won’t change until the paperwork for him and his brother goes through over a week from this day. But the driver introduces the children to Daimon as Kaiba Seto and Kaiba Mokuba, and for an instant the boys exchange a shy glance, before Seto says a polite ‘Nice to meet you’ and gives Daimon a small, shy, honest smile.

Daimon remembers the first time he sees Seto talking to himself- he’d completed his schoolwork for the day and was strolling through the gardens. Daimon remembers his laugh- loud and uncontrolled and so full of joy. Daimon remembers asking him what was so funny, and he replies “My friend!” and for an instant Daimon is worried that someone has broken in, but Seto clarifies that he is the only one that can hear her, and Daimon relaxes. Seto is such a curious and bright child- an imaginary friend is hardly surprising.

Daimon doesn't remember his first heart attack. He does remember waking up in his bedroom with young Seto at his side, and the way the room smelled of fresh oranges- he remembers Seto handing him one, and the way his hands were coated in sticky juice- Daimon’s hands were too weak to hold it on their own. He remembers waking up the next morning to the sound of Seto’s laughter- out his window, he can see Seto playing in the freshly fallen snow, tripping over a black trench coat at least three sizes too big as he runs after his brother.

Daimon remembers the pictures- scribbled hastily on his schoolwork or over an hour on a proper piece of drawing paper. Despite Seto’s ten-year-old talent, Daimon remembers the boy’s eyes- fierce and kind at the same time, lavender or purple with flecks of crimson and blue pointedly added in. Daimon keeps the pictures in his room, kept neatly in a sealed box. Every last one of them.

Daimon remembers asking Seto about the boy. Seto calls him his friend- someone who has been gone for a very long time and he misses terribly. Daimon assumes that this was a boy he knew in his old home, but Seto insists they’ve never met. Daimon asks Seto how he can miss someone he’s never met- to which he gets a serious look on his face and says flatly “Because that’s the way it is.”

Daimon doesn’t remember when the pictures stop.

Daimon resumes his role as teacher two months after his heart attack. Seto is as bright as ever, but he no longer looks up at the corners of the room, smiling at jokes unheard. Instead he cringes, face buried in his collar. After a week of silence,  Daimon asks if anything is wrong. It’s his friend. “She’s not real. I know she’s not real, but she won’t stop telling me she is.”

Daimon learns that while he was away, Seto had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. Daimon knows that keeping Seto on his medication and aware of reality is for the best. He also knows that Seto is miserable.

Daimon remembers Seto’s eleventh birthday- he is too ill to see him in person, so instead he writes a card. Daimon writes it in English- he remembers how happy Seto was to learn how to write his name in a new way. Daimon had promised to teach him how to write in cursive as soon as he was able to read his textbook cover to cover. Daimon remembers using a blue ink pen. Daimon remembers how Seto loves the color blue.

It is nearly a full year later when Daimon returns to the Kaiba mansion- Mokuba appears overjoyed to see him again. Seto says everything he should say- but there is no feeling behind it. Gozaburo invites Daimon to dinner with the family and spends most of it bragging about how fast Seto is learning- he’d taken over Seto’s education personally, after all. Daimon remembers the bandages just barely peeking out from Seto’s collar and sleeve- not at all suspicious on their own, but he remembers Seto’s face when he notices they’re showing. The way he yanks his sleeve down and holds his breath after, as if he’d seen a ghost and not a piece of latex sparks a seed of worry, and he makes a note to get Seto alone after dinner.

Seto can barely stay awake through the end of the meal. Daimon knows by the dark circles under his young eyes that the boy needs his sleep and vows to ask him about the bandages in the morning. Daimon has an episode that night and has to return to the hospital.

Daimon is still ill on Seto’s thirteenth birthday, but he insists that he will go see Seto come Hell or high water. His old room has been gutted- most of his personal belongings are now in the Kaiba Medical Center where Daimon now lives, but the box of Seto’s pictures is nowhere to be seen.

Gozaburo is out of town on important business and Mokuba has the flu, so Daimon has Seto to himself for the day. Daimon spends the day teaching Seto cursive, just as he’d promised so long ago. Daimon can feel the tension in the air when he arrives, but by the time night falls the air has cleared and Seto is even laughing a bit- until it happens.

Daimon had had a box of stationary under his bed, and when Seto leaves to get a drink of water, Daimon finds the box still there, but with a very different prize inside.

Cards. Duel Monsters cards, none of them of any particular value, save the “Blue Eyes White Dragon,” hand drawn by a young child with care.

Seto walks in on this and freezes. Daimon asks “Seto-sama, are these yours?” to which he hurriedly sets down his water so roughly it nearly falls and snatches the cards away.

Seto blurts out at least three excuses at once, a maid must have hidden them here, he was so very sorry someone had disturbed Daimon’s box and he’d been meaning to throw them out for weeks, really he’d just been too busy-

Seto is manic, and Daimon’s voice can’t reach him through the cloud of panic, but Seto reacts to the hand on his arm as if he’s been slapped in the face.

“Seto-sama, what’s wrong?”

Seto’s eyes are red and watery in the harsh fluorescent  light. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I’ll just throw them out, it’ll be okay.”

Daimon frowns. “Why would you do that?”

Seto’s eyes drift down to his hands. “Because… Duel Monsters in a childish game. Mokuba and I aren't allowed to play childish games.”

“Seto,” Daimon says as he reaches out a wrinkled hand, but as it enters Seto’s line of sight he flinches, so he drops his hand back to the bed and says “look at me.” Seto obliges, the mania cleared from his face and instead a resigned submission. “I don’t think Duel Monsters is a childish game.”

His posture is still defensive, but there’s something glimmering behind his eyes, not quite hope, too scared to be hope, but something close. “You don’t?”

“No, Seto-sama. I beat the world champion of Duel Monsters once, you know.”

It’s a subtle change, the way Seto’s shoulders lower, the way his head raises, But Daimon remembers it clearly. “You did?”

“Yes. It was a private match, not in a tournament, but I beat him best out of three.”

Daimon can see how Seto’s expression changes, the way his lips barely part and the slow unintentional whistle as he exhales. Daimon feels the unconscious tug at his lips. “Do you want me to teach you how to play?”

Seto’s expression changes, his brows furrow, causing deep lines in his young skin. “I already know how to play,” he pouts. “Mokuba and I used to play it all the time.” His face is almost comically sour, but it’s the most honest expression he’s worn all day.

“Then we can jump right into a round,” Daimon says with no room for objection.

The two play late into the night, until Seto finally falls asleep in his chair. Diamon could see them- the bandages on his neck and arms, and he thinks he may see one under the hem of his shirt as well when he falls asleep and it rides up a bit, but Daimon can see how fragile Seto’s happiness is, and despite his every instinct telling him to find out what happened, Daimon’s selfish heart can’t find enough strength to break Seto’s smile.

By the next month, Daimon is suffering cascade organ failure. Simply spending a day outside the KMC is too much for his body to handle. He sleeps most of the time, but he awakes every so often to find young Seto has come to visit- at first almost every other day, then once a week, then in a bare few months he only comes to visit once, and the next time he is awoken it’s by a lawyer. Kaiba Gozaburo is dead. Kaiba Seto is the new president. Kaiba Seto is now fifteen years old.

Seto had turned sixteen by the next time they met- his hair was bleached, and Daimon guesses he’d done it himself- there is a distinctly green tone to it. There is no shyness or fear in his eyes- he no longer puts up a defense, this smile is a threat. Seto says “I have a job for you, Daimon,” and though he replies of course, anything for you, Seto-sama, part of Daimon’s heart simply can’t comprehend this dangerous stranger as the bright boy he had grown to love as a son.

Daimon has spent the last year in a sealed chamber- his lungs and heart have been replaced by artificial organs, but even so, he can only survive for three hours outside of intensive care. This would normally not be a problem, but the driver nearly running over a high school student was not in the plans.

Two and a half hours after leaving the KMC, Daimon knows that this is the end. He’s known that he’d outlived his time in this world already- he is not afraid. Daimon has but two regrets- leaving Seto now, though he knows in his heart that it is far too late for _ him _ to save that kind boy, and the second…

Well, there is something awfully familiar with that high school student. Mutou Yuugi, sixteen years old, a few months older than Seto, though one would never guess it by looking at the two. Puberty was hitting the poor boy late- his voice broke every few sentences and Daimon guessed that even Mokuba was taller than him. 

He was kind and gentle, and Daimon noticed the way he bit his lip and his brows arched down during their game of Duel Monsters. There was something buried just beneath the surface- a hidden strength, covered by self-doubt, the same that caused him to over think his moves and lose the game, though he had the advantage. Daimon thought he had a good read on Mutou Yuugi.

Just not on what made him so familiar. One mystery he’d never solve.

Minutes after the duel ends, Seto enters with Daimon’s personal medical staff. Daimon is ill and faint, but there’s a distinctly odd note is Seto’s “Yuugi? What are you doing here?” that's a fair bit too chilly to be hopeful and yet far too familiar to be uncaring.

Seto has another job for him just days later- this time, to defeat Mutou Yuugi in a proper duel. Seto looks straight ahead in the car as he explains what will happen- supposedly, the “weak” persona he’d seen earlier was only a split personality, and the real one would only come out when challenged. “I’ll warn you. Don’t lose. He punishes losers,” Seto says, a shallow smirk on his mouth as his eyes glisten. “‘The Sensation of Death.’ That’s what he called it.”

The change in Yuugi’s demeanor is instant and undeniable. Self-doubt was utterly replaced by overconfidence- no doubt he truly had skills to back it up, but Daimon guesses he wasn’t quite as untouchable as he thinks himself to be.

Daimon loved a good game- he was never one to stop midway through just because his body complained. But with Seto standing behind him, hand on the IV line, he feels no pain. A real challenge like this is rare- he completely lost sense of time, until the fog of battle clears, and he feels his body begin to fail.

It is laying there, helpless, as the boy he had dedicated his life to steps over his prone form and leaves him to die, he realizes Seto was truly gone. This was no barrier of protection- something in him had broken- something in Seto’s heart, Daimon had allowed to break.

Daimon remembers the careful touch on his arm, looking up into the boy’s eyes- lavender, speckled with crimson and blue, strong and kind and sad and utterly lost all at the same time. Daimon remembers the feeling of a smile tugging at his cheeks- this boy could bring back Seto’s smile. They may have just met, but Seto had been missing him for a very long time. They had a bond that Daimon could not understand, but he could feel- as for why, well, that’s just the way it is.

Everything had gone dark then. Some unknowable amount of time later, Daimon realizes that he is back in the KMC. Something was happening, and it was quite loud, but Daimon still feels ill and returns to rest.

It was well over a month later when Daimon returned to consciousness. Daimon remembers it feeling more like a nightmare than reality. Seto is in a coma. He has been for weeks. He’s shown no signs of recovery.

Daimon remembers reading Seto’s chart, and so much has changed since the last time he looked after his master’s health.

Paranoid schizophrenia. Bipolar disorder. Asperger's syndrome. Dangerously high blood pressure. Hypermobile joints- and the beginnings of arthritis in at least two fingers, even at his young age. And prior to his catatonic state, severe insomnia. He’d stopped taking any medication weeks before the beginning of what the doctors were calling his “breakdown”- the beginning of Death-T’s construction coincided with the increase of Seto’s erratic behavior. Apparently, this had started with the night he’d been found asleep on school grounds, and had devolved into such incessant nightmares that Seto had been going three or four days at a time without sleep.

All of this comes to Daimon secondhand- from the staff and files. None of it seems real- not until he sees Seto in person.

His hair is cropped short- it’s brown again, but not close to the length he liked. He stares ahead, eyes lolling from left to right, searching, searching, but unresponsive. He’s neither unconscious nor brain dead, according to the doctor’s findings. He’s dreaming. He’s been dreaming endlessly, night and day, for three months. This is good, they say. REM sleep is when the body is best able to heal itself. Daimon knows this is true, but Seto’s vacant look makes his heart ache.

Seto has grown taller since he last awoke- his clothes are far too small. They fit awkwardly on his large, bony frame- too short on his limbs and too baggy over his torso. The doctors decide to give him a full examination on the six month anniversary of Death-T, and Daimon sess what he’d been afraid of for years.

Scars. Dozens of scars, little light brown lines scattered over the surface of his arms and shoulders like scattered straw, two deep russet lines encircling his neck like an abused dog, and dozens of little white crescent marks on his arms, his shoulders, but mostly down around his hips and lower back. Four lone ones on his belly, all in a line. But nothing on his face or hands. Kaiba Gozaburo knew how to hide his tracks.

There was no way to know if Daimon could have stopped this.What Daimon did know was that he hadn’t tried. Daimon remembers taking Seto’s clammy hands in his and apologizing for what he’d let happen. Daimon didn’t beg for forgiveness. He neither wanted nor deserved it. He begged instead for Seto to wake up. Seto only stared ahead.

It was two weeks to the day after that, when things get noisy again. It was dark out- one, perhaps two in the morning, when the man runs into the KMC. He staggers drunkenly, leaning on walls and chairs and kicking cabinets as he dashes around the room as fast as his impaired body will allow. Daimon remembers the man- tall, very tall, with a dark coat he into which he shovels handful after handful of pills. What he does not take he discards on the floor- once, he steps on a bottle and falls into a computer with a great clatter.  _ “Fuck,” _ he says in English with an impeccable American accent. His voice is a deep baritone that Daimon feels is familiar but does not immediately recognize. He makes a note to turn this drunkard in once morning comes. KaibaCorp. needed better than prescription-stealers that disturbed patients to this degree.

In the end, the helicopter and prescriptions are both discovered missing hours before Seto is. He’d taken damn near every stimulant in the west wing.

This leads to four days of pure panic- Mokuba was two days late for his check in from New York, none of his staff could be reached- through hotel staff insisted he ordered room service two to three times a day, Seto had woken up, been spotted by exactly one member of the house staff and run off while she went to get a doctor, and somehow managed to steal a helicopter. And for four days, nothing changed. Daimon remembers the constant buzz of anxious activity, and then the fall of dead silence, and knowing at least one of the brothers had been found- and then the fear, the dread, the impatience for someone to return and tell him what was going on, and then-

“For the last time, I do not need a doctor, I need a lawyer! The Big Five-”

“Kaiba-sama, you have been in a coma for over six months-”

“Do I look like I’m in a coma now? This needs my immediate attention!”

“Nii-sama, please! Just let them-”

“Listen to your brother, Kaiba! He’s righ-”

“Who let YOU down here? Ugh, get rid of the  _ bonkotsu _ and I’ll stay here until he’s gone.”

“WHY YOU-!”

“Sir, I’ll need you to come with me.”

Daimon remembers seeing the brothers walk in hand-in-hand, the way Seto’s sharp mouth scolded the doctors and gently sparred with Mokuba, and how he followed his brother’s guide completely. Daimon remembers the look on his face, as his sentences drifted off and an unfocused look glazed over his eyes, and how a simple “Nii-sama? You were saying?” brought Seto’s world back into focus. Daimon remembers the almost unnoticed touch, as Seto began to drift off and ghosted his fingers over his brother’s, and though no-one else did, Daimon saw the reassuring squeeze of Seto’s fingers, and the way Seto’s thumb ran over the back of Mokuba’s hand- to anyone else who saw, it was Seto comforting his little brother after a horrible ordeal- but to Daimon? Seto needed his brother just as badly as the other. He wasn’t well yet- but he also wasn’t the same broken child that stepped over a dying man that he’d lost interest in. He was Kaiba Seto, and he was sick, and he may never be the same as he was before, but he would get better. Finally, he would heal.

Daimon sees Seto often after his return. After the first week, Seto’s “fading” spells cease almost entirely, and he is able to fully resume his duties as president- however, his six months of inactivity had taken a steep toll on his body. Between his lack of proper food and sudden growth spurt, Seto had gone from somewhat gangly to severely underweight, his reflexes had been greatly slowed, and he was having even more joint pain than before. Seto comes into the KMC twice a week for physical therapy, and always stops to talk to Daimon. Daimon gets the feeling he is being more talked at than talked to, but hearing about Yuugi’s ongoing feud with the math teacher and Mazaki’s inexplicable domination in the arcade,  _ how dare she replace his high score,  _ **_she wasn't even a serious gamer_ ** , and the time the _ bonkotsu _ was drawing something called a “fursona” in history class, and the design was so terrible that Seto didn’t know whether to turn him in or give him art tips and he couldn't decide which until after the bell rang and  _ then _ he’d been so distracted that needed to get notes from Yuugi and it was _ all the bonkotsu's fault _ , and the other three Seto had taken to calling “The Peanut Gallery” in English- to Daimon, Seto sounded more alive than he had in years. The years had changed him- he’d always had a bit of an acidic side, even as a child, but now there is an edge of bitterness to his every word, a challenge in his jokes,  an unspoken threat in his laugh. His air of utter self confidence rings hollow to Daimon’s ears- Seto brags about how superior his new advancement in Solid Vision tech is to anything KaibaCorp.’s Competitors have, to which Daimon points out that yes, it is a brilliant design, but his current duel disk still had many flaws- Daimon’s honest answer makes Seto waver.

For so long Seto had been surrounded by danger- those who sought to tear him down and those who only existed in his life to agree. Those who had pushed Seto to the point of creating Death-T and those who’d enabled him to do so were equally to blame, in Daimon’s mind.  Seto had built a wall of ego out of fear and pain to hide behind, and it was so very fragile. Seto had lived a life of criticism with himself as the only consistent support- both honest validation and criticism from another was a new experience, especially from the same source, and simple remarks were enough to shake Seto to the core.

“The Duel Disk does need work before launch,” Daimon says, and Seto’s face is vulnerable and hurt, “but I know you’re up to the task, Seto-sama. Things like this take time.”

Seto presses his lips into a thin line and looks directly at him for a few moments, before his smirk returns and he pronounces “Of course I am. I know that.”

Seto knew many things- but he needed to hear them all the same.

Daimon remembers the days leading leading up the the launch- Seto had created a promotional tournament dubbed “Battle City” and was constantly busy. Daimon remembers the glimmer of excitement in his eyes- due to his coma, Seto hadn’t been able to attend last year’s worldwide Duel Monsters championships as he had planned or even this year’s nationals- losing his title to Insector Haga by default, who had then gone on to not even make the top fifteen, had been something that bothered Seto greatly. This tournament was Seto’s chance to return to competitive dueling- and his chance to face Mutou Yuugi again, which he honestly seemed more excited about. The last time the two had faced each other had been before Seto was completely recovered- he was positive that he could win now that he was back at full strength.

Daimon remembers Seto’s small smile the night before the tournament- anxious and giddy with an undeniable edge of danger.

“I’ll crush him,” he says.

“And then what?” Daimon asks, and for a single second Seto’s smile falters, he looks lost and unfocused and an instant later his smile returns.

“Then I’ll know,” he says. Seto doesn’t say what he will know- but there’s a breathless lilt to his voice that leads Daimon to believe he has more than a vague idea.

The next time Daimon sees Seto is the night after the tournament ends. Daimon remembers awakening in the dark, only the faint glow of the computer monitors lighting the room, barely able to see the room’s other occupant. Seto sat silently, elbows pressed into his knees and mouth hidden behind crossed fingers. His eyes are downcast, seeing nothing.

“Seto-sama?” he asks, to which the only response was a quiet shuffling of Seto’s feet on the cold tile. Seto has something to say- Daimon can almost hear a silent, frustrated scream in the air. Daimon waits.

“I don’t believe in the impossible.,” Seto mutters so quietly that it would have been unheard in anything but dead silence. There is a pause.

“I’ve seen impossible things before. My whole life. When I was young, I believed they were real- everything seemed so real then. But I know better now. Occult things only exist in fiction and dreams. People can’t transform. Dissociative Identity Disorder is real. Ghosts are not.”

Seto pauses, his brows furrowed deeply. “I know…” he takes a breath. “I know that not everything I see is real. I know that my own senses can’t be undoubtedly trusted. It’s a fact I’ve had to face about myself- but I know the limits of reality. I’m not so inhibited that I can’t tell when something is blatantly impossible. Even when I can’t tell at first, there are always ways of checking- security videos, witnesses, transcripts. I can’t be fooled anymore- not even by Solid Vision. I know what’s real. I know…”

Seto falls silent, and Daimon can hear his unsteady breath. His eyes are squeezed shut; the dim lighting catches the wrinkles in his skin in a way that illuminates his pained expression.  The quiet drags on for an uncomfortably long time, but Daimon doesn’t dare break it. When Seto speaks up, Daimon jumps.

“I saw something.” Seto pauses, and Daimon is worried he’ll stop, but after taking a breath he continues; “It was utterly impossible. It wasn’t like the things I see anymore- there was no sense of reality to it, it wasn’t even trying to be believable. It was the sort of thing that simply can’t happen. It was like the things I saw as a child, before Go- before I learned how this universe works. I’m not a child. Childish things can’t touch me anymore…”

Daimon sees him shift- sees him purposely, painstakingly relax his long fingers from the way they were digging into each other. His eyes open slowly, the light reflecting off of them and making them seem bright and watery. Daimon remembers making eye contact- he remembers the irony of Seto’s statement, as he looks more like his childhood self Daimon met seven years ago than he has any time since.

“I think it was real,” he breathes, and then crosses his arms over his chest, looking at the floor. “But things that  _ can’t _ be real  _ aren’t _ real… right?”

Daimon smiles kindly. He remembers the way his heart raced- with pride that Seto would come to him, and with joy of seeing someone he’d once feared lost for good. “Seto-sama, look at me.”

Seto raises his eyes, shining and pained and lost, looking at the same time both young and innocent and old- older than Daimon, the eyes of someone who had seen far, far too much for one lifetime.

“There are some things in this world that we don’t understand. Some impossible things that reasonably can’t exist that simply  _ are.  _ I’ve seen one myself, Seto-sama- and if you asked me how it happened, I’d only be able to tell you ‘Because that’s the way it is.’”

“I don’t understand,” Seto replies, and then slowly, minutes later, eyes closed and arms relaxed at his side, he whispers not to Daimon, but himself; “Maybe… I don’t need to understand.”

Daimon watches him, listens to his breathing even out and eventually settle into an unconscious rhythm, and smiles as he returns to sleep.

For three days, Seto is happy. He has an idea for an upgraded Duel Disk and a worldwide system, he finalizes the buyout of I2 in person, and he proudly declares that the  _ bokotsu _ was bragging all day about lifting weights and therefore, he would also begin lifting weights and do it  _ better _ (it simply wouldn’t do to have the  _ bonkotsu _ beat him at a subject at school, even if it was technically extra-curricular.) On the second day, Seto brings in Mokuba and they spend the night playing Capsule Monsters Chess. For three short days, Kaiba Seto is on top of the world.

On the fourth, he is furious.

Daimon has no idea what caused the change. The anger doesn’t go away the next day- for weeks, Daimon hears rumors about Seto storming around the building, snapping at and firing anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way. Daimon remembers the night Mokuba comes to him, crying. “Nii-sama is throwing things,” he whimpers.

“Are you scared?” Daimon asks, and Mokuba nods wordlessly as he curls up to Daimon’s side. “You don’t need to be scared of your brother, Mokuba-sama. He’d never hurt you,” Daimon assures.

“I know he’d never hurt me again. I’m not scared for me,” Mokuba mumbles into Daimon’s arm.  Daimon strokes his hair and makes a mental note to ask about that “again” part at a more appropriate time.

Seto doesn’t stop visiting this time. He begins to settle down after the first month, and he’s civil, though not even close to friendly. Daimon believes he could cut the air with a knife when Seto is around- waves of steaming tension rise off him him even on the best days, and he’s never more than a breath away from snapping. He tells no one what’s bothering him, not even Daimon or Mokuba.

Mokuba has an idea what caused it. “He was on the phone with Yuugi when it happened,” Mokuba admits to Daimon one night. “Nii-sama won’t tell me what he said. But I know there was a lot of yelling that night. I don’t think they’ve talked since- at least outside of school.”

Daimon bides his time. He doesn’t believe Seto will come to him this time, not in his current state of mind. But he also knows that confronting Seto in the wrong way would be nothing but damaging. Daimon waits. And two months after Seto’s foul mood begins, Daimon sees his chance.

Seto coming to him and complaining about his schoolmates was nothing unusual- at least it hadn’t been, before this began. Seto had been unusually quiet on the subject in recent weeks. On this day, Yuugi and his friends had decided to go to the arcade to celebrate the end of midterms, and to Seto’s indignation, had invited him along. Seto had been pacing as he explained this, but at the end he froze, hands balled into fists.

“I  _ hate _ them.”

Daimon is shocked- Seto had never been one to use the word hate lightly, and now seemed to truly mean it. This was more than a fight, as Daimon had originally assumed. Something had happened here to cause this- something major.

“Why, Seto-sama?” He asks calmly.

“Because they’re _ liars! _ ” he roars. “All of them! All they talk about is  _ friendship _ and  _ bonds _ and it’s all false pretence!” he sneers. “Any one of them could drop dead and they’d just… move on as if nothing happened! They don’t care about each other at all!”

Seto wheels at Daimon, a crazed look in his eyes. “Atem was  _ their _ friend. Not mine. We were never friends.  _ They _ were the ones that he cared about. And they just… let him die! And now, they go to school and the arcade and shops like like it doesn’t matter! Like he never existed!  _ Like this isn’t the end of everything _ !”

Seto is panting, looking not at Daimon but through him, teeth clenched.

“I was never his friend. I never pretended to be. But  _ they _ did- and they never cared! _ I _ didn’t care, and losing him was like… like having my right arm ripped off! How could they possibly care, when they still find meaning in living now, when they still feel happy without him, w-when they  _ say things _ like ‘he’s in a better place now.’ How could it be better? He’s dead! He’s GONE!”

Seto staggered, leaning heavily on the wall for support. He paused, breathing heavily. “How can they think about never seeing him again and not want to die?” he breathes. He closes his eyes. “I wasn’t even his friend and I… and I…”

Seto can’t bring himself to finish his statement. Daimon is at his side as quickly as he is able- he knows what Seto needs now is not words. 

Seto had been wary of being touched for years now- when he was a young child, he’d held Daimon’s hand and hugged him good-night when Daimon had read to him a book his father had read to him before his death, and Seto had admitted to him for the first time just how deeply he missed him. He’d found comfort in touch, once, but for so long he’d recoiled at every outstretched hand, every time something came at him a bit too fast, every time something brushed against him unexpectedly. But tonight, Daimon reaches a wrinkled hand out to hold Seto’s and the young man’s legs give way, and soon he is resting his head in Daimon’s lap, fingers intertwined and crying as he’d been unable to do for years. He’d been forced to grow up far too fast- he’d been forced to become a father at ten and since then had done his best until he had finally broken under the pressure- only to come back, and take on even more responsibility. Daimon knew in his condition he couldn’t take the weight off of Seto’s shoulders, not permanently, but he could give him a night to cry and mourn and be held by a father that loved him.

“Seto-sama,” Daimon begins, running his fingers through Seto’s hair, “Everyone mourns differently. I don’t believe they didn’t care about Atem. But I also don’t believe they loved him as you did.”

“Love..?” he whispers almost confusedly, the word foreign on his tongue. His eyes are unfocused, barely open. “I loved Atem..?”

“There are many kinds of love, Seto-sama. I love you, and Mokuba-sama, and Doctor Ishida, who has been my caretaker and dearest friend for years. But the only time in my life I have felt as you described… it was when Aika died. We had been married for thirty-two years.”

Seto doesn’t speak, but a range of emotions flash over his face- confusion, anger, joy, sadness, fear, longing, and another, one that Daimon can’t quite understand, another expression that makes Seto look old and lost like he’d seen the world since it began and was so very, very tired. Daimon remembers Seto’s last words as he drifted off to sleep; “I need to see him again. I need to tell him…”

Seto’s mood changes for the better after that night- he’s still on edge but is able to fully apply himself to the projects of the new Duel Disk and and Duel Links and another personal one- one he doesn’t speak about but he is clearly excited over. Most of the time Seto is in the KMC is spent doing schoolwork- he knows the answers, but the lack of time to fill out homework had taken a massive toll on his grades. Seto clearly doesn't care, but he is aware that failing his finals would reflect badly on the company and takes the time to fill it out anyway. Daimon is hit with a wave of nostalgia, watching Seto fill out his worksheets. Seto’s cursive on his English homework is impeccable- his kanji on everything else is virtually illegible. Daimon convinces him to spend a day working on his penmanship with him before his teacher docks him _ anothe _ r point for misreading what he’d written, and it’s plain to see each enjoys it as much as the other does.

Weeks pass in this manner- deals are made, new products are rolled out, school projects are assigned and finished. Then one day, Seto comes in- and not to see Daimon.

“I’m completely fine,” he argues as Daimon wheels into the room, but his voice is shaky and he’s clearly out of breath.

“What happened, Seto-sama?”

“I received a minor shock while testing a new product. Nothing to worry about, Daimon.”

“You received a shock of currently undetermined strength which caused a  _ major _ cardiac event, Kaiba-sama,” Doctor Ishida snaps. “If it was as minor as you say, that is even more cause for worry. Now sit still and let me do these tests before I call in Isono to hold you down.” 

Seto grudgingly complies, and the tests come back as well as could be hoped- the shock he received was in no way minor, and his high blood pressure doesn’t seem to have been the sole cause as they’d feared. Doctor Ishida increases Seto’s medicine for his blood pressure as a preventative measure and tells him to be more careful when testing prototypes in the future.

Duel Links is nearly ready for launch when the incident occurs. Daimon doesn’t know the details- few people do. There had been an argument in the lab between Seto and his lead designers, followed by Seto making an unscheduled trip to Egypt for reason undisclosed to most of the company, and then upon his return, a complete rehaul of the mini tournament that was planned to promote the Duel Disk’s launch at the last minute. Daimon heard quite a bit about the utter scheduling disaster that was rippling throughout the company, but virtually nothing about  _ why _ Seto was doing this. Seto knew how to keep his personal life from bleeding into his professional one- if something was making him cause this much chaos, Daimon knew it must be a matter of life or death.

Something happens during the tournament- the live feed cuts out and ambulances are called for what is later reported as a gas leak resulting in many people present falling unconscious, including Seto. The Department of Internal Affairs turns on Seto for moving the tournament up, despite the lack of safety measures in the new arena. Daimon remembers Seto’s confidant smile, tinged with a hint of sadness. “They won’t find anything against me when the investigation is done,” Seto assures Daimon and Mokuba. “They don’t have the full story.”

“What is the full story?” Daimon asks, and Mokuba nods in agreement. He’d been at HQ when the feed was lost.

Seto grins, says “Highly improbable,” and changes the subject.

Seto bringing Mokuba with him on his visits becomes more often than not, over the next few weeks. Daimon remembers Seto’s quiet smile as he watches Daimon and Mokuba play CapuMon from over his homework- graduation is less than a month away now, and he really didn’t need finals to happen at the same time as the big launch. The nights spent here at the KMC are pretty much the only free time he has to spend with Mokuba as well- Daimon knew he was short on rest, but the melancholy in Seto’s eyes won’t let Daimon ask him to go home and go to sleep after the first time he does so. This time spent as a family is as precious to the brothers as it is to Daimon, perhaps more so. All of them knew that things never stayed the same for long for the Kaibas- sooner or later, this time would end. They had to enjoy every moment while it lasted.

Only one of them knew how soon that would be.

It’s the night after graduation, when the alarms blare and doctors rush from across the KMC at full speed. Another heart attack, they say. Doctor Ishida had feared it was inevitable. He’d told Daimon so. He’d done his best to take care of his patient- getting attached was unwanted, but there was no avoiding it. Mokuba is crying- he shouldn’t be here, not during open heart surgery, but he’d already been here to visit Daimon when it happened, and Ishida couldn't bring himself to throw the boy out. Good doctors were only as good as their patients would allow, in the end.

What is a doctor to do when a patient has a death wish?

Daimon listens to the nurses chatter from outside the operating room. Another malfunctioning prototype, they say. He knew the risks, how volatile the program was and how it hadn’t passed safety protocols. Some say he’d sabotaged it himself- he had to make it look like an accident, for insurance purposes. What a sweet man they say, teary eyed. Thinking about his brother, even in his unstable state of mind.

Daimon watches the doctors and nurses enter and leave, and remembers Seto. Daimon is thankful, in the end, that even though he’d lost so much, his mind is still sharp. He can remember Miyazato Seto’s nervously darting eyes, dressed in his blue knit vest with his uncombed hair, and his peaceful sleeping face the night they’d played Duel Monsters until nearly morning, and the way he looked at his drawing of a sleeping boy with eyes far older than ten, and his gentle, sticky fingers that cup Daimon’s shaking hands around an orange he’d peeled himself.

Daimon hopes that some day he will forget the scream- the wordless sound of a child’s heart breaking. Daimon hears the calls of “Mokuba-sama!” seconds before the boy runs past, as if his legs can outrun what his eyes had seen.

Daimon sees Ishida then, leaning against the wall with his glasses in his hand. “Idiot boy,” he mutters over and over. “Stupid idiot boy.”

The KMC grows quiet soon- only busy staff remained, the rest gone off to gossip or spread the news elsewhere.

Ishida is still leaning against the wall, facing Daimon with his eyes closed. “It’s for the best, you know,” he says. “He had a stroke this time- a bad one. If his heart hadn’t given out so suddenly… He wouldn’t have been himself anymore. Some people can live like that- be happy like that. But if there was enough left to know what he used to be? It would have been worse than death for him. You know how he was.”

The doctor's words ring true, not matter how painful they are to hear. Daimon knows exactly how Seto was, can remember every encounter.

“May I see him?” Daimon asks, hands knotted around the hem of his jacket.

“Yeah, of course,” Ishida says, but makes no move to walk with him.

The hum of Daimon’s chair is deafening in the utter silence, as out of place as a ringtone at a funeral. Seto lays quietly before him, eyes shut. The cliche was that he looked like he was sleeping- but he doesn’t look that way to Daimon. There’s something unmistakably different.

Seto slept with his mouth parted slightly, often with brows furrowed. Sometimes it was nightmares- others, simply a puzzle, but Daimon remembers his expression being very different. 

Daimon feels tears well up in his eyes. He’s known Seto for nine years now- he’s seen him grow, change, laugh, cry, break and heal. He can remember every expression Seto ever made.

But Daimon cannot remember ever seeing Seto with a more joyful smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Miyazato is a Japanese surname meaning Shrine Village. Ishida is a Japanese surname meaning Stone (Rice) Field. Aika is a Japanese female given name meaning Love Song.


End file.
